We can learn
more by seeing where this brute lives, than by catechizing a hundred
caids."
"It's too late for him to get away from Algiers to-night by train,
anyhow," said Nevill. "Nothing goes anywhere in particular. And look
here, Legs, if he's really onto us, he won't have made himself scarce
without leaving some pal he can trust, to see what we're up to."
"There were two men close behind who might have been with him," Stephen
remembered aloud.
"Would you recognize them?"
"I--think so. One of the two, anyhow. Very dark, hook-nosed, middle-aged
chap, pitted with smallpox."
"Then you may be sure he's chosen the less noticeable one. No good our
trying to find Maieddine himself, if he's left the palace; though I
hope, by putting our heads and Roslin's together, that among the three
of us we shall pick him up later. But if he's left somebody here to keep
an eye on us, our best course is to keep an eye on that somebody.
They'll have to communicate."
"You're right," Stephen admitted. "I'm vague about the face, but I'll
force myself to recognize it. That's the sort of thing Miss Ray would
do. She's got some quaint theory about controlling your subconscious
self. Now I'll take a leaf out of her book. By Jove--there's one of the
men now. Don't look yet. He doesn't seem to notice us, but who knows?
He's standing by the door, under a palm. Let's go back into the
ball-room, and see if he follows.
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